


Say You Like Me

by chaostheoryy



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Boys Being Boys, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-typical language, Coming Out, Confessions, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cussing, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, I just wanted to write some fluff between these sweet boys, M/M, One Shot, Period-Typical Homophobia, Secrets, Sleepovers, Timeline not specified but could be during the first film or just after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 19:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21041267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaostheoryy/pseuds/chaostheoryy
Summary: There's something on Richie's chest that he has to get out. Too bad he's not very good at confessions.





	Say You Like Me

“Hey, Eds. You still awake?”

There’s a rustle on the floor to Richie’s left and a soft groan of annoyance soon follows as an answer to his question.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Richie, I swear to fucking God, if you ask me any more stupid questions about my mom, I’m going to stuff your glasses in the garbage disposal and force you to listen to them shattering into a million tiny little pieces.”

“Wow. Fuck you, dude,” Richie grumbles, “I was gonna ask you a serious question but I can see you’ve got a stick up your ass tonight so never mind.”

“Fine. What do you want?”

Richie crosses his arms and rolls over onto his side to face the opposite direction. “I said never mind! I don’t wanna ask you shit if you’re gonna be a pisshead about it!”

He can hear Eddie’s sleeping bag shifting on the floor behind him, accompanied by indecipherable muttering. The bed creaks lightly as a weight falls down upon the mattress by Richie’s legs.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Eddie says quietly, his sincerity and guilt faintly detectable behind the irritation, “Now would you quit being a whiny bitch and ask me your question already?”

Richie looks over his shoulder to see Eddie sitting crosslegged on the bed behind him. There’s a signature Kaspbrak pout clinging to his lips but even in the dark, Richie can see those big, brown eyes of his are full of curiosity and warmth.

“You promise you’re not going to yell at me?”

“As long as this isn’t about my mom, no.”

“Not everything is about your fucking mom, Eds. As beautiful and voluptuous as that bosom of hers is—“

Eddie slams his hand down on Richie’s hip. “Stop it!”

“Ow! Jesus! I’m kidding!” Richie rubs at his hip and winces. “How does somebody as tiny as you hit so fucking hard?”

“I’m seventy-five percent bone. It’s like getting hit with the handle of a baseball bat.”

“Uh, yeah, I got that,” Richie groans as he eases himself up into a sitting position. He leans back against the headboard and looks at Eddie in silence for a moment.

Eddie’s brow furrows. There’s no doubt that the pensive expression on Richie’s face is worrying him.

“I’m gonna ask you something weird and kind of…uncomfortable,” Richie says quietly, “So you gotta promise me you’re not going to flip out or jump to any conclusions, alright?”

Eddie blinks. He nods.

“I’m being dead serious, Eds. You better not pull some stupid hypochondriac shit and jump out the window.”

“I’m not going to jump out the window, dipshit,” Eddie scoffs, raising his cast up, “You think I wanna break my other fucking arm?”

“I’m exaggerating, dumbass.”

Eddie frowns. “Whatever. Just ask me your question so I can go back to sleep.”

Richie clenches his jaw and swallows the lump that has formed unexpectedly in his throat. His heartbeat seems to grow louder and louder, echoing in his ears like a drum. There’s a heavy weight on his chest that’s been laying dormant there for months and it’s about time he gathered the strength to push it off. If he doesn’t, there’s a good chance it’ll crush him completely.

“You know how Bowers and those other turdbrains make fun of me and call me the f-word all the time?” Richie asks hesitantly.

Eddie nods.

“If they were right about me…” Richie blushes and quickly interjects on his own thought, “Not that they are! They say stupid shit all the time so who could fucking believe them anyway!” He mindlessly rubs his own arm with his thumb and clears his throat. “I’m just saying if I was…_gay_…Would you still be friends with me?”

Eddie’s lips part slightly as if to answer but almost immediately close again. He exhales softly, brow furrowed. Richie can practically hear the cogs turning in his head.

“Why are you even asking me this?”

“I don’t know! Maybe ‘cause I wanna see if you really are a good friend and not some fake, conceited asshole like every other person in this fucking town,” Richie snaps defensively.

Eddie looks completely taken back by the response. The fiery rage Richie’s grown so familiar with sparks to life in Eddie’s belly.

“Is that what you think of me? You think I’m some kinda dud who’s gonna stab you in the back first chance he gets? Fuck you, man!” Eddie jumps off the bed and starts rolling up his sleeping bag as he rants, “Looks like I should be the one wondering if you’re really my friend ‘cause, obviously, you’re not. You just think I’m some pathetic piece of shit who’s here to laugh at your crappy jokes and get pushed around like some discount rack punching bag. Well, fuck that!”

Richie’s heart is in his throat. “Eddie, stop. I’m not saying any of that! I’m just—“

“Just what, Richie? Afraid I’m gonna pull a knife and shank you? ‘Cause newsflash, dipshit, that’s the kind of messed up shit Bowers does! And apparently you’re so fucking afraid of me being like everybody in this stupid ass town that you might actually think I’m gonna grow up to be like that mullet-wearing dirtbag!”

Eddie grabs his stuff and heads for the bedroom door in a huff. Richie immediately panics and scrambles out of bed after him.

“Eddie, wait! Where are you going?”

“Home,” Eddie growls as he swings the door open, “To the only fucking person who actually seems to give a shit about me!”

Eddie’s words sting Richie like sanitizer on an open wound. Eddie really thinks he doesn’t care about him, that all Richie considers Eddie to be is a punchline for his jokes. But it’s not true. Never has been.

Richie grabs Eddie by the wrist to hold him back. “Don’t leave.”

“Let go of me, asshole!” Eddie tries to yank himself out of Richie’s grasp but to no avail. “I wanna go home!”

“Eds, please—“

“Shut up!”

Eddie is nearly trembling in Richie’s grasp. He’s clearly still angry but there’s also something else hidden in his eyes. Richie’s not sure why or if it’s even truly what he’s seeing but Eddie seems scared.

“Stop fucking calling me that.”

“I’m sorry,” Richie replies, bowing his head slightly as he loosens his grip on Eddie’s wrist, “Eddie... Please don’t go. I didn’t mean to yell at you like that and I especially didn’t mean to make you feel like you’re...Y’know.”

“Like I’m a hateful monster?”

Richie nods, jaw clenched.

Eddie exhales loudly and leans back against the door. Richie can see his fist clenching around the handle of his duffle bag. He stands there for a moment, carefully weighing the pros and cons of the situation.

“I’m not like them, Richie,” Eddie finally says after a long moment of silence, “I don’t want to dump somebody in the trash can or carve up their stomach like they’re some kind of fucking jack o’ lantern.”

Richie’s throat feels tight. “I know.”

“Then why would you say that shit?”

“Because I’m scared,” Richie says before he can stop himself.

Richie’s eyes burn and he feels like he’s going to cry. Every remaining flicker of Eddie’s anger seems to extinguish suddenly and Richie’s certain it’s because he can see that Richie’s one shaky breath away from complete waterworks.

Eddie drops his stuff on the floor and closes the door quietly behind him.

“What’s going on, Rich?”

Richie doesn’t believe in God but he prays to a higher power nonetheless for the strength to get through his confession without breaking down and drowning in a pool of his own tears.

“I’m gay, Eds. I’m gay and I’m scared because I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do about it. Everybody in this town thinks people like me are disgusting little viruses that need to be killed and I don’t—“ Richie starts to shake as the tears finally breach his eyes. “I don’t wanna die alone, Eddie. I can’t fucking take it anymore...”

Richie’s prayers for a strong, successful confession go unanswered. He sobs. He buries his face in his hands as loud, pained whines rattle his entire body. His knees feel like they’re about to buckle underneath him and his lungs are threatening to break off his trachea like autumn leaves falling off a tree.

Long bony arms suddenly wrap around Richie’s middle and there’s a soft thudding sound as the solid weight of a cast gently hits his back. Richie flinches. It takes him a moment to process the feeling, to really understand that he’s not hallucinating. Eddie is hugging him. And not in a mocking or hesitant kind of way either. His arms are really holding Richie tight, his warmth pressing up against Richie like a soothing blanket.

“You’re not gonna die alone, Rich. I’m always gonna be here.”

Richie hugs him back and leans in to bury his face in Eddie’s neck. He lets himself cry shamelessly until the sobs slowly fade into soft whimpers and his sharp, staggering gasps settle down into long, steadying breaths. It isn’t until his own cries stop ringing in his ears that another sound registers in his mind: Eddie is sniffling.

Richie pulls back to look at Eddie and is completely surprised to see that there are tears rolling down his sun-kissed cheeks. He isn’t sobbing pathetically like Richie had been but the puffy eyes and wet streaks on his face are undeniably present.

“Why the fuck are _you_ crying?”

Eddie inhales sharply, snot retracting into his nose. “Because I hate it when you cry,” he mumbles innocently as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hands, “You’re dumb and annoying but I don’t want to see you hurting, okay? It fucking sucks.”

A tiny grin tugs at the corner of Richie’s mouth. No matter how fearless and impenetrable Eddie pretends to be, he’s always been the softest, most compassionate person Richie knows. It’s one of the things that drew Richie to him in the first place.

“And it’s kinda cool to hear I’m not the only gay kid in Derry.”

Richie nearly chokes on his own spit. “What?”

Eddie’s cheeks flush a soft shade of pink. “I mean I’m not a hundred percent gay,” he clarifies quickly, “I like girls! I just...also really like boys. Well, _a_ boy.”

“And you thought to tell me this _now_?”

Eddie blinks. “What the fuck do you mean ‘thought to tell you this now’? You just came out to me! Was I supposed to just pat you on the fucking back and call it a night? I’m trying to—“ He makes a weird gesture between the two of them. “Y’know…Make it even?”

“This isn’t the goddamn swap meet.”

“Fuck off. I’m trying to be honest with you, okay? Don’t blow it by being a fucking dickwad.”

Richie rubs at his eyes and readjusts his glasses. “Sorry.”

Eddie sighs and looks down at his feet. “I’m sorry I yelled at you for what you said,” he murmurs softly, “I wasn’t actually that mad. I was just…worried. I kinda thought you were asking those questions ‘cause you knew I was gay so I was trying to rush outta here before I pissed myself or something.”

“You would’ve looked like a fucking idiot if you did,” Richie teases.

Eddie scowls.

“I’m kidding, Eds.”

“Oh my God, would you stop calling me that?” Eddie’s cheeks grow a little pinker as he looks away. “It’s fucking embarrassing.”

“Chill out, dude. It’s just a nickname.”

“Yeah but it’s too…_cute_,” Eddie says in disgust, sticking his tongue out dramatically.

“But you are cute, dumbass,” Richie grins and pinches Eddie’s cheeks, “Sweet, baby-face, Eds. The cute little momma’s boy.”

Eddie swats his hands away. “Stop it!”

Richie laughs as Eddie’s faces goes crimson.

“Don’t laugh at me, dipshit! I’ll crack your skull open with my cast!”

“You can barely even reach the top of my head on your tiptoes, you midget.”

“I’ll fucking show you—“

Richie stumbles back as Eddie lunges at him and attempts to whack him over the head with his arm cast. They battle each other for a few moments, Eddie’s arms and legs flailing around wildly as he tries to climb up Richie’s body like the trunk of a tree.

“Get off me, you weirdo! What are you some kind of spider monkey?”

Eddie jumps onto Richie’s back and hooks his knees around Richie’s abdomen. Richie tries to shake him off, dancing around the room like a madman until he realizes there’s no use in being gentle.

With a smirk on his face and a scheme in his brain, Richie trudges over to the bed and swings around so the back of his knees are pressed against the mattress. Then, without any warning, he falls back onto the bed, crushing Eddie underneath the weight of his body. Richie can feel a gust of air blow past his ear as Eddie’s breath rushes out of his lungs.

“Ow!” Eddie whines as Richie stands back up to leave him flattened on the bed, “You almost killed me, you asshat!”

“Don’t be such a fucking crybaby.”

Eddie’s legs start kicking at Richie like a pair of cobras striking at their pray. One of Eddie’s feet makes solid contact with Richie’s ribcage and forces him to double over in pain before he can grab Eddie by the ankles.

“Stop kicking at me, you little shit,” Richie grumbles as he wrestles with the squirmy limbs.

“Let go of me!” Eddie growls and tries desperately to break free of Richie’s grasp. He sounds angry and annoyed but Richie knows it’s all just play.

“No fucking way. I’m not letting you kick me in the nuts.”

Eddie wiggles violently and nearly yanks his foot out of Richie’s grasp. Determined not to give him the satisfaction, Richie climbs on top of him. He straddles Eddie by the thighs and sits down on his knees so that his legs remain pinned to the mattress.

The squirming ceases for a moment as Eddie stares up at him. It seems to take a few breaths for him to really comprehend what has happened but, once those cogs finish turning, the fire immediately sparks back to life and fists start flying. Eddie’s cast comes crashing down onto Richie’s thigh like a sledgehammer.

Richie nearly screams. “What the fuck, Eddie? That hurt!”

“I fucking hope so, dirtbag! Now get off of me before I do it again!”

Richie scowls and leans forward, grabbing Eddie’s cast and pinning it to the mattress. Eddie responds quickly by trying to slap him across the cheek with his good hand but Richie grabs his wrist and forces it down to the sheets. Within seconds, Eddie’s fight is diminished and Richie reigns supreme.

“What are you doing?” Eddie nearly squeaks, “Get off of me, you jerk.”

“Told you you’re too fucking small to reach my head,” Richie mocks with a crooked grin, “You can’t even beat me in a wrestling match.”

Eddie’s lips part to fire back but the words seem to die out before they even reach his tongue. He inhales deeply and Richie can feel the muscles in his arm twitch under his palm. He wants to fight, to prove his bite is just as strong as his bark. But his eyes are wide and something deep inside his soul is dousing the flames of his rage.

Richie furrows his brow when he notices the innocent expression on Eddie’s face. He looks skittish, almost terrified.

“What’s wrong, Eds?” Richie asks worriedly as he loosens his grasp on Eddie’s arms, “Shit. Am I hurting you?”

Eddie’s jaw clenches. “No. You’re not hurting me. Just—“ Richie can actually hear Eddie swallow the lump in his throat. “I’m nervous, okay?”

Richie blinks and watches the color return to Eddie’s freckled cheeks. “Nervous? Why the fuck are you nervous?”

“Because!” Eddie turns his head away and wiggles underneath Richie’s body. His voice gets even quieter. “Because I just told you I like boys and now you’re on top of me and my fucking heart feels like it’s gonna burst out of my chest like a goddamn alien.”

Richie’s breath hitches.

“Oh.” He swallows and releases Eddie’s arms. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to—“

Richie makes a move to climb off but a hand yanks at the hem of his shorts to hold him back. Richie looks down and sees those big, chocolatey eyes staring up at him. There’s a timidness in his gaze, but Richie’s not blind to the unspoken yearning there too.

“Don’t get up,” Eddie whispers. “Please.”

There’s a loud thumping in Richie’s ears now. His heart is pounding violently against his sternum and he suddenly understands Eddie’s description of feeling like his chest is gonna burst.

Eddie sits up so that Richie is resting on his lap. It’s a layout that doesn’t make sense: Richie is towering over Eddie by several inches and his calves are being squashed under his thighs like hamburger patties. He feels long and ridiculous but he knows his place. He’s not going anywhere.

Eddie reaches up with his good hand and hesitantly ghosts his fingertips along Richie’s jaw. The touch is exploratory and tentative yet warm and reassuring. Richie can’t keep his mouth closed as he breathes.

“When you said you like _a_ boy,” Richie whispers lowly, “Were you…?” His words trail off as he loses his focus and drowns himself in the soft, mesmerizing pools of Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie nods, seemingly understanding exactly what Richie wanted to say. His touch becomes more confident, hand caressing Richie’s cheek for a long moment before sliding back to bury itself in Richie’s messy hair. Richie can feel Eddie pulling him down and accepts the silent guidance. He freezes when his face is less than a foot away from Eddie’s.

Richie’s tongue darts out to wet his unexpectedly dry lips and his eyes wander down to Eddie’s mouth. It’s right there waiting for him. All he has to do is lean a little bit further...

“Can I…?” Richie’s voice is barely audible over the sound of his own heartbeat. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

Eddie’s eyes swoop down to Richie’s lips before wandering back up to his pupils. Then, with a soft exhale, he nods.

Ever so carefully, as if he were performing surgery in front of the chief of staff, Richie cups Eddie’s face in his hands and closes the gap between their mouths. Richie’s never kissed anybody before and he’s not entirely sure what to expect but the soft press of Eddie’s lips against his just feels right. It’s gentle and tender and it sends a jolt of pure ecstasy through his veins.

Eddie tilts his head ever so slightly and the feeling of their lips gliding against each other makes Richie blush. It’s weird and wet but also makes Richie’s stomach tingle in the best way.

“Richie?” Eddie whispers against his lips.

“Yeah?”

“Can I sleep with you?”

Richie feels a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “Little Eddie Spaghetti wants to cuddle up with the trash mouth,” he teases quietly, “How cute.”

Eddie pulls back and crosses his arms, putting some distance between them. He glares silently at Richie.

“If you’re trying to intimidate me, it’s not working, Eds. I just kicked your ass in a wrestling match and you bet your scrawny little ass I’ll do it again if I have to.”

“Oh my God. You’re such an asshole! I take it back. I don’t wanna sleep up here with you. I’d rather cuddle with a fucking chainsaw in the basement.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Richie laughs as he slides out of Eddie’s lap and crawls across the mattress to the headboard.

“I hate you. You know that right?”

Richie rolls his eyes and slides his legs under the blanket. “Yeah, yeah. I’m the worst.”

Eddie sits in silence, watching as Richie settles in for the night. Once he’s tucked himself in and lets his head fall back on the pillows, he pats the mattress next to him.

“You comin’ or what, pipsqueak?”

There’s a displeased frown on Eddie’s face but he crawls over nonetheless. He slips underneath the blanket beside Richie, careful not to put weight on his bad arm or whack Richie in the face with the brick-like cast as they try to figure out where they are each going to go. Like a game of Tetris, they twist and rotate and slide around for a few moments until they finally fall into place with Eddie’s back pressed against Richie’s stomach and legs tangled up like overgrown vines.

“Your hair smells like Twizzlers,” Richie teases as he drapes his arm over Eddie.

“My mom’s making me use this dry shampoo shit that’s supposed to prevent dandruff. Pretty sure it’s for girls but she refuses to let me leave the house without putting it on. It’s fucking stupid.”

“Does it make your hair taste good too?”

“Why the fuck would anyone try to make shampoo that _tastes_ good? You’re not supposed to eat it.”

Richie leans forward and jokingly pokes the back of Eddie’s neck with the tip of his tongue. Eddie flinches and reaches back to lay his hand over the spot where Richie’s tongue had made contact.

“Ew! Richie! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m kidding, Eds. Relax,” Richie laughs as he grabs Eddie’s arm and pulls it back down.

“If you lick me again, I swear to God, I will elbow you in the stomach so hard you’ll shit yourself.”

“Alright. No licking.”

“Good.”

“But, what about this?” Richie murmurs softly before pressing a soft kiss to Eddie’s neck, “You gonna elbow me for that?”

Eddie’s voice is so soft that Richie can almost hear him blushing. “No.”

Richie grins. “That’s what I thought.”

He plants a few more kisses along Eddie’s neck and shoulder before nuzzling his nose behind Eddie’s ear. He sighs in content, eyes drooping shut as he allows himself to relax. The warmth of Eddie’s body is magical and the rhythmic rise and fall of Eddie’s chest beneath his hand is undoubtedly going to be enough to lull him to sleep.

“So, are we like boyfriends or something now?”

Richie hums contently. “You wanna be?”

“I don’t know. I’m not…” Eddie trails off for a moment. “I’ve never been with anybody so I don’t even know what we’re supposed to do.”

“Me neither,” Richie replies with another sigh. He fans his fingers out over Eddie’s chest and lets himself focus on the gentle beating of his heart. “But I’m good with whatever this is.”

A smooth, soothing hand snakes its way over Richie’s and grasps gently at his fingers.

“Me too.”

Eddie’s thumb begins rubbing Richie’s knuckles in time with the beating of his heart.

Richie’s all in. He wants to hold Eddie every night, to have those lanky legs knotted up with his and drown himself in the sweet, fruity smell of his shampoo. He’s in love and no amount of name calling or senseless arguing between them is going to change that.

“Good night, Rich.”

Richie smiles sleepily. “Good night, Eds.”

That night, Richie doesn’t have nightmares about isolation or fear. There’s no Henry Bowers to bully him into a corner and no Pennywise to threaten the people he cares about. He dreams only of Eddie Kaspbrak and the warmth he feels in his chest when the two of them are together.


End file.
